


snapshots [free!]

by clearlykero



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-29 08:00:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 8,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14468379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clearlykero/pseuds/clearlykero
Summary: Free! ficlet dumping grounds. Chapters titled according to pairing.chapter 12 update: gen yakuza AU





	1. sousuke/natsuya

**Author's Note:**

> mostly written for prompts (from SASO and otherwise), some because i have an overwhelming feeling.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> familiarity

The leaves are fragile on the trees, now; the air bites at his skin where he was too stubborn to wear long sleeves. It’s getting too cold to go in the water much, and the university club hasn’t the budget for a heated swimming pool. They don’t really win a lot, or go to many tournaments. It’s just how it is. Natsuya dips his hand in the pool, shivering. Someone will be along to drain the pool and cover it soon. He wonders if he has time for a few laps, even though it’s cold.

Sometimes he daydreams about getting back into form properly, ditching the final year of his awful economics course to chase once again the image of a bright Olympic pool, an audience, a podium and glinting gold around his neck. But he isn’t fifteen anymore, he’s too  _old_  for that, he thinks, swiping his hand out of the pool. Water arcs away at the gesture, splashes next to him. Not everyone is meant to excel at what they love, and he’s made his peace with that over the years.

A familiar set of footsteps echoes behind him. Natsuya smiles to himself, gets to his feet and turns around.

“Come to join the club after all? It’s the off-season now, you know,” he says, to his long-suffering junior who has probably just come to collect his weekly lunch treat.

“I know, and I’m not here to join the swimming club,” Yamazaki snaps, “like I told you the last two hundred times you asked me the same damn thing, Kirishima-san.”

An expectant pause.

“Kirishima-senpai,” he corrects himself begrudgingly. Natsuya stretches up to ruffle Yamazaki’s hair, just because he can. Yamazaki always looks like he loathes his hair being touched, but he never actually says anything when Natsuya does it. 

“You’d have fun,” Natsuya says, quiet, his hand slipping down to touch the side of Yamazaki’s neck carefully. There’s something about the way the evening light spills in from the open roof, bathing everything in faint rose gold, something about the way it halos around Yamazaki’s hair that makes Natsuya feel– 

“Really?” Yamazaki’s answer is equally quiet, but the unvoiced  _because you don’t_  echoes loudly in the ensuing silence. 

They have these moments, sometimes, when Natsuya’s hand rests lightly on Yamazaki’s shoulder and Yamazaki gets a wistful expression on his face, his eyes soft and voice gentle. He can guess that Yamazaki isn’t really thinking about him; it’s something to do with why Yamazaki doesn’t swim any more, and why he gets silently angry when Natsuya is flippant about it.

Natsuya looks at Yamazaki looking at someone who isn’t him, and tries not to sigh. “Let’s go get lunch, Yamazaki.”

“We’re splitting the bill this time.”

“Nope, I’m older than you, let big brother give you a treat, hehe.”

“I,” Yamazaki says, with the resigned tone of one who knows they’ve lost but will argue anyway because of  _principles_ , “am not actually your sibling, and I know you’re always broke–”

“This is where you say, yes senpai! Thank you senpai!, and let me look good, you know?” Natsuya pats his shoulder comfortingly. “It’s okay, Yamazaki, I know you’re not used to society.”

“Shut up,” grumbles Yamazaki, and he grumbles all through lunch but he lets Natsuya pay for two tonkatsu sets anyway, because he is an adorable softie at heart and Natsuya is irrepressibly fond.


	2. sousuke/natsuya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sousuke/natsuya, at ease (art is also mine)

There are a lot of things Natsuya could say about Sousuke. For instance: he’s surprisingly awful at poker;  
  
_(“Raise,” Sousuke says. From the waist up he looks completely cool, not a hair out of place. Waist down, however._  
  
_“You sure about that?” asks Natsuya, touching the tips of his fingers to Sousuke’s knee. It stops shaking immediately. He doesn’t even get to rub it in— Sousuke’s already putting his cards down with a supremely resigned expression on his face._  
  
_“Fold.”)_  
  
and he absolutely adores children;  
  
_(They’ve run into Kisumi and his little brother at the cinema, and this is where Natsuya finds out Sousuke and Kisumi are childhood friends. They spend some time catching up, during which Natsuya has to remind himself he’s the adult here, jealousy is_ so  _unbecoming._  
  
_Kisumi’s little brother seems like he hasn’t yet hit his growth spurt. He’s sort of adorably sticking close to Kisumi’s side. Natsuya occupies himself drawing the kid out of his shell instead, ignoring Sousuke’s eyes on the back of his neck._  
  
_Later, after they’ve had a tiny argument and then had make-up sex, Sousuke says: “I just really like how you look with kids.”_  
  
_“Do you want kids?”_  
  
_Sousuke rolls over, pins him to the bed. “A whole baseball team.”)_  
  
and he hasn’t a shred of romance in his soul.  
  
_(“Seriously?”_  
  
_It’s Valentine’s Day, the bed is strewn with rose petals, and there’s a cake-scented candle lit because Nao had suggested it, and Nao is always right. Sousuke, however, just looks mildly irritated._  
  
_“This is going to be such a pain to clean up.”_  
  
_Natsuya looks at him, wounded. “I was trying to be romantic!”_  
  
_“Yeah, well. I’m not with you for romantic gestures. I like you fine on your own.”)_  
  
Okay, maybe he is a little bit romantic. But not  _properly_. And anyway, the point is— Natsuya could say a lot of things about Sousuke, but he never thought he’d be able to call Sousuke a cosplay fetishist pervert and actually have it be completely factual. So this is what he says immediately upon Sousuke’s return home, but Sousuke just looks him up and down and smirks.  
  
“You’re wearing them anyway,” he says, and it’s true. He is wearing them. Them being a leather collar (hot) and cat ears (questionable).   
  
Natsuya is not and has never been one to be shy about his body, having been on the swim team for years, but it’s different when Sousuke looks at him. It  _burns_. Like how the sun feels on his skin at the beach on a hot day— like the way Natsuya used to get when racing someone really good. And something altogether different, that makes liquid heat pool low in his stomach and his mouth go dry with wanting.  
  
“You said I should,” Natsuya replies, leaning against the back of the sofa. The leather sticks to his bare thighs uncomfortably. “So I did.”  
  
“It’s not my birthday, Kirishima-senpai.” As Sousuke speaks, he moves closer to put his hand on Natsuya’s cheek. “Why are you being so nice to me?”   
  
Natsuya grins, pushes into Sousuke’s hand. “Can’t I be nice to my dear junior once in a while?”  
  
  
  
Sousuke is absently caressing the side of Natsuya’s face with his thumb. He has a fond look on his face that Natsuya rarely sees, his mouth tilted in a half-smile.   
  
“Natsuya-san.” Rough, a little louder than a whisper. Natsuya tilts his chin up for a kiss, and Sousuke does; just a chaste peck on the side of his mouth. “I need to shower.”  
  
“Now?” It’s been ages since they’ve done anything, since they’re both so busy with university and part-time jobs. Today is a rare Saturday that they’re both at home before 7pm, and Natsuya doesn’t really want to waste any time showering that can be spent in more pleasurable avenues.  
  
“I won’t take long.”  
  
“But—”  
  
“Natsuya-san,” Sousuke says again, and kisses him properly this time, his fingers tight in Natsuya’s hair. When he pulls away they’re both slightly flushed.  
  
“Please get started while waiting,” says Sousuke, pressing something into his hand before he disappears to the bathroom.  
  
Natsuya looks down, opens his fingers.   
  
“The collar doesn’t have anywhere to attach a ring,” he calls in the direction of the bath.  
  
“Put it on yourself, not the collar,” comes back over the sound of water running.  
  
It takes a moment, and then— _“Sousuke!!”_


	3. sousuke/natsuya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sousuke/natsuya, sign on the dotted line

It’s a cold day in autumn, the rain can’t decide if it wants to drizzle or come down properly, and every so often the wind blows droplets of water into his face. Sousuke is on the balcony of his apartment, a cigarette slowly smoking itself away between his fingers. There is an air of finality about him today that weighs on his shoulders like a physical thing.   
  
It’s harder than he’d expected to dissolve a civil union. There are papers to read, to sign; lawyers to talk to, people to avoid. So many people to avoid. Sousuke doesn’t want to talk to anyone, not even Rin. There is no energy left in him to answer the questions that will inevitably come. Sometimes he sits on the sofa in his quiet (too quiet) apartment, and he wonders if this is worth it.  
  
(A glimpse of brown hair next to grey, the too-familiar feeling like a stone in his gut, jealous, bitter,  _angry_ —)  
  
It is. It has to be.  
  
The papers are lying on the kitchen table on top of the yellow manila envelope the lawyers gave him. They’re just thin sheets of pulp; they shouldn’t mean anything.  
  
But the little things are always what mean the most. The tube of toothpaste that lasts longer than he’s used to, the shower drain cover that doesn’t have random strands of brown hair tangled in it. The empty space on his left.  
  
The rain is heavy, now. There are things he doesn’t mean on those papers, in unforgiving black on stark white.  
  
( _Why do you want to file for dissolution_ , they asked him, and he couldn’t answer. He  _doesn’t_  want to. But that’s no grounds for anything, and so he said, textbook, _irreconcilable differences._ )  
  
Sousuke tries to think about when things were good, because anything else would send him into a spiral of self-pity that he doesn’t need. He wants Natsuya to be happy. When it was good— oh, it was  _good_. But they argued more than they didn’t, slept in different rooms more than the same, and then there was Rin, and then there was  _Nao_ , and then, and then, and then.  
  
A message from Makoto is still unopened on his phone. There is no subject, and the content preview reads:  _Haru and Rin are back! You and Natsuya should_...   
  
“Should what,” Sousuke says out loud. The wind swallows it up like he hadn’t said anything at all.  
  
His cigarette has burned to the filter, and there is ash at his feet. He puts it in the pot with the wilted sunflower, goes back in to stand at the table. The white noise of rain presses into his ears, accented by the sound of someone leaning on their car horn. He can’t think. Doesn’t want to think.  
  
(“Are things alright?” Hesitantly, after a night of beer, romantic comedies (Rin’s), and Mission Impossible (Sousuke’s). Sousuke can’t find the words to explain how it should be alright but isn’t in the slightest.   
  
“They’re fine,” he says instead. Rin doesn’t seem convinced, but that’s all he can give.)  
  
He finds a pen from somewhere, writes a curt note on the back of a receipt, slips it in the envelope with the papers and the acknowledgement form.  
  
Tomorrow, he’ll go to the post office.   
  
But today, he makes two portions of pork cutlets and curry, and he eats it quietly at the kitchen table, alone.


	4. past sousuke/natsuya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (past) sousuke/natsuya, regrets

“I’m not going,” Sousuke says, before Haru has even opened his mouth. Haru looks at him narrowly, and he just looks back in silence, because at this point there’s nothing left to say.  
  
“Okay,” is all Haru ends up saying in the end, and that’s that.  
  
Makoto, on the other hand, isn’t so simple. The thing about Makoto is that he cares more than Haru does, wants to see the people he cares about get along. He doesn’t know how to give up on a lost cause. Still, when Sousuke sighs and says, “I can’t, Tachibana,” Makoto reluctantly lets it go.  
  
Rin doesn’t even bring it up, because he’d been there for the fallout and there to pick up the pieces afterwards.   
  
Funnily enough, the only one who actually gets it is Kisumi.  
  
“You say that, but you didn’t reply and say you’re not going,” he says, when Sousuke insists that he won’t go. They both look at the coffee table, where the envelope is sitting, pristine white and gold. On top of it is a handwritten note that only says  _RVSP - Natsuya_. Sousuke smiles a little. Natsuya still can’t spell to save his life.  
  
“See!” Kisumi points at him, “you’re just  _drenched_  in residual feelings.” Sousuke looks away immediately.  
  
“If,  _if_  I went, what would that even do?” He rubs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I don’t want to mess up his— I don’t want to fuck it up.”  
  
“You can say wedding. Wed. Ding.”  
  
“Kisumi,” he says, with an edge in his voice. Kisumi takes the hint and shuts up. “He’ll cry if I show up. I know he will. He probably knows it too.”  
  
“People cry at these kind of events, it’s not going to—”  
  
“I don’t want to fuck it up. His— she didn’t do anything to me. I can’t ruin things for her.”  
  
He doesn’t even know the girl, won’t let himself look at the name. Part of him wants to think it’s just an impulse, just a rebound, but it’s been four years and Natsuya would never get married on a whim. He’s not going to even think about if she means more to Natsuya than he does, because down that road lies nothing good, but. She means something. Enough for commitment.  
  
Isn’t this what he’d wanted? Natsuya had been lonely, and Sousuke—  
  
“I couldn’t give him— I hope she loves him,” he says, tightly, “I hope she loves him ten times more than I do.”  
  
Kisumi kindly ignores his slip into present tense. “You gave him enough,” he says instead, touching Sousuke’s shoulder softly. Sousuke leans back on the sofa, closing his eyes.  
  
“Yeah. I guess I did.”


	5. haru/rin yakuza AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> haru/rin, yakuza AU

Rin is trembling.

He probably thinks Haru doesn’t notice, and if they were just a couple of centimetres further apart that would be true. But they aren’t– Haru’s throat aches where the gun barrel is pushing on it, his skin is hot where Rin presses against him. 

“Rin,” he whispers. The gun moves when Haru swallows. Rin’s eyes track the movement; he takes a shallow breath.

“Don’t think I can’t,” he says viciously. His voice is too loud in the living room, echoing off the blank walls and cardboard boxes that Haru hasn’t unpacked yet. “You’re my ticket in,  _Nanase_.”

Unexpectedly, it doesn’t really feel like much when Rin says his name like he’s spitting out poison. Just another drop in the bottomless ache that has made a home in his bones, just another severed tie to add to the pile. Haru starts to shift, and stops abruptly when Rin clicks the safety off. 

“I have to,” Rin says, in a very small voice. Haru’s pulse thuds in his ears, and adrenaline is rushing through his bloodstream with nowhere to go. He’s very aware of all the places they’re touching. Very, painfully aware of his thigh between Rin’s legs and how Rin looks like he’s having the same problem as Haru is. He licks his lips, makes eye contact.

“There are,” he can feel the way Rin tenses at his words, he can feel the way  _nothing has changed_ , “there are other things you could do. To move up.”

Rin laughs, high-pitched and humourless. The gun drags up Haru’s throat until it’s touching his temple, warm from his body heat. “Short of seducing you over to our group, there’s nothing I can–”

“I would,” Haru says, almost too quickly. “If it’s– I would.”

The only sound that follows is their breathing, harsh in the still air. Then Rin very slowly moves his gun away, thumbs the safety back on, puts it on the closest stack of boxes.

“If it’s what?”

Haru wants to look away, but if he does Rin will never believe him. He can hardly believe himself. “If it’s for you. I can change sides.”

“What about Makoto?” soft, incredulous.

“He’ll understand."  _He always does,_  Haru thinks,  _and never stops me_. Guilt bubbles up in his stomach like a flood, but he has to choose,  _he has to choose_ , because look what not choosing did to them. "It’s always been you.”

A beat of silence, and then Rin’s hands are fumbling at Haru’s jeans, teeth in his lip, pushing close enough that his ribs hurt. But he pushes back, because how can he not? Rin rubs himself against Haru’s leg and Haru thinks maybe they can do this, maybe– he can’t think straight, not when Rin is saying “Haru,  _Haru_ ,” into his neck and he hasn’t touched Rin in five long years.

“Rin,” he says back, voice cracking. Rin’s got one hand in Haru’s briefs, pulling at his cock so fast it rides the edge of too much, but too much is good, it's  _fitting_ for what they are. Haru reaches out to return the favour, but Rin seems happy enough grinding against his thigh so he slides his hands into Rin’s hair and kisses him.

“Can’t,” Rin moans into his mouth, licking at Haru’s lips like he can’t get enough of the taste, “gonna–”

“Me too–”

And then they’re both shuddering through orgasm like they haven’t since high school, since things were simpler and no one was dead yet, like they’re just two lonely people desperate for each other. They just stand there for long moments until all the tension seems to rush out of Rin, leaving him slack with what looks like exhaustion. He rests his forehead on Haru’s shoulder– he’s still shivering. Haru pulls him closer, holds him as tightly as he dares.

“Nitori’s gonna flip his shit,” Rin mumbles after a while.

“If I talk to Mikoshiba-san properly, it should be–”

“Not about  _that_ , god, you’re so fucking stupid,” he groans, but Haru can feel the edge of a smile, and this time he thinks it’s a real one.


	6. uozumi/minami

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uozumi/minami, can't sleep

“Tachibana-san was really fast,” Uozumi says out of nowhere, the night before relays. “Momo, too. He didn’t lose by much.” A long silence, interspersed with rustling and Minami’s own carefully timed breathing. He isn’t sure what to say; he hates repeating platitudes and he can’t think of anything that doesn’t sound like unwanted pity.

“Sleeping,” Uozumi murmurs, finally, and he sounds a little bit sad.

Minami listens to Uozumi’s quiet exhales for a long while, feeling guilty. Half the reason he doesn’t really want to say anything is that he’s envious of Uozumi getting to join at all, when Minami is stuck in the bleachers at every meet. His opponents are the captain and his top-ten-in-the-country best friend– Minami’s good too, he knows that, but he’s not  _that_  good.

After a time, a noise drifts down from the top bunk, sounding horribly like a sniffle. Maybe it’s sinus problems? Minami wishes it was just sinus problems.

“Uozumi,” he says, softly, but it still sounds unnaturally loud after the silence. The sound stops immediately.

“Can’t sleep?” Uozumi says, as if he wasn’t just… crying. Minami imagines a watery smile to go with the words, and his chest aches. Stupid Uozumi. He was supposed to be the easier option, but. Nothing about this is easy.

“Had a nightmare,” he lies, rubbing his eyes until they feel red enough to pass for just-woke-up. “Come sleep down here?”

Uozumi doesn’t even take the time to reply; by the time Minami turns over he’s already clambered down to crouch at the bedside. He looks intently at Minami, who doesn’t move until Uozumi relaxes with a sheepish laugh.

“Am I that obvious?” He puts his hand on Minami’s pillow, like he’s afraid to touch. Minami sighs, shifting over.

“Only,” he pulls his blanket back so Uozumi can get in to curl around him, “because I know you, that’s all.”

Uozumi’s arm tightens around his waist. “Too well?”

Minami thinks about the exes he’s told Uozumi of, about the erstwhile ‘best friends’ he’s always pushed away. In the end he always comes back to Uozumi. At least he’s aware of it now, even if he doesn’t think he’ll ever say it.

“No,” he answers at last, tilting his head back into Uozumi’s neck. “Now go to sleep.”

“Yes,  _sir_ ,” Uozumi says, but his hand brushes over Minami’s stomach and strays even lower– and if Minami doesn’t stop him, that’s nobody’s business.


	7. sousuke/haru, apartment neighbours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sousuke/haru, croquettes

When Sousuke gets home from his part-time job, there’s a plate lying in front of his door and a cat mincing its way towards it.  _For your shoulder_ , says the note on top. The cat puts a possessive paw over the words before he can read the signature, but he thinks he knows who it’s from.  
  
“My croquettes,” he tells the cat firmly, nudging it with his foot. The cat swats at him and leaps away— and of course, the note is from Nanase.  
  
He puts them on the table inside, and while he showers he thinks about buying a microwave.   
  
The croquettes are still good cold. He eats them standing up, watching news about Olympic trials on his old television. Nanase has developed a thing about feeding Sousuke ever since he moved into this apartment complex. He supposes it’s because Tachibana’s busy with whoever he keeps texting in class (who definitely isn’t Nanase) and there isn’t anyone else to foist leftovers on. Still, it happens an awful lot, always when Sousuke is running low on food.   
  
If it was anyone else, Sousuke would probably be thinking about other possibilities. But it’s Nanase, and he’s just... Nanase.  
  
In the morning, he opens his fridge to see nothing except a resealed bag of potato chips, a plastic box of fruit salad, and two cans of beer. He takes the salad out and writes a note on the lid, stopping to leave it at Nanase’s doorstep on his way to university.  
  
_Croquettes don’t fix injuries. But they were good._  
  
He comes home late that night, having been dragged off to karaoke by his classmates. Sousuke is not particularly fond of karaoke, but neither is Tachibana, and unlike him Tachibana is too nice to decline. Sousuke frequently finds himself reluctantly going along because he is no match for puppy dog eyes. (Even though Tachibana is a damn liar, considering how disgustingly good he is at karaoke.)  
  
On his doorstep, there’s a ring of condensation, and a note.  
  
_~~Eat it while it’s hot.~~  Maybe next time._  
  
Sousuke thinks about the note during his shower, feeling slightly guilty. And he doesn’t have anything on hand to give back, not that he  _has_  to, but. He looks at the contents of his fridge as he towels his hair dry, contemplating.  
  
He doesn’t run into Nanase when he hangs a plastic bag on the other’s door the next morning, but this time Nanase is waiting for him when he gets back.  
  
“I don’t like beer,” he says. Sousuke looks down to see the plastic bag he left on Nanase’s door handle, except there’s a lot more in there than just beer. Something clicks suddenly in his head; it isn’t something he hasn’t noticed before, but he’s always just dismissed it. Because it’s Nanase— and yet. Here he is.  
  
“I know,” answers Sousuke, slowly. Nanase gives him a look.  
  
“Then why?”  
  
“Wanna come in?” he asks, in lieu of an answer. Nanase doesn’t say anything, so he shrugs and unlocks the door. Nanase follows quietly when he steps inside, closing the door behind himself.  
  
Sousuke drops his keys in the bowl on his table, turns around to find Nanase about ten centimetres away from him.  
  
“Look,” he says, reaching out to catch Nanase’s arm before he can escape, “are you flirting with me?”  
  
Nanase’s eyes flick to where his arm is in Sousuke’s grasp, up to Sousuke’s eyes, then away. “No.” He sounds exceedingly sure of himself, but Sousuke isn’t having it. He slides his hand up to rest on Nanase’s shoulder, his little finger just touching Nanase’s neck. No resistance— not even a flinch.  
  
“You sure?”  
  
“I’m not  _flirting_ ,” Nanase says, almost petulantly.   
  
“Okay,” Sousuke replies, removing his hand and turning to the sofa. He gets a proper answer in the way Nanase’s eyes follow it then look away, so fast he almost misses it, but it’s  _there_. He smiles to himself, at which Nanase sighs loudly.  
  
“I made curry. Do you own plates or do we have to eat out of the tupperware?”  
  
“I have bowls,” Sousuke says, still smiling, and he goes to the kitchen to get the things. Nanase sticks out his foot to trip him on the way, but he’s feeling good enough that he doesn’t even mind.  
  
Later, when Nanase has commandeered his bathroom, he finds a note in the plastic bag.  
  
_You can use my microwave next time. If you want._


	8. sousuke/kisumi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sousuke/kisumi, date (a birthday present for fi)

In this version of the story, Sousuke doesn't wreck his shoulder, and Rin doesn't have to take Haru to Australia to set his competitive spirit ablaze, and the neat pairs of rivalry become a Sousuke-Rin-Haru three-way. Makoto, for once seeing faster than Haru where the water will take him, is less hesitant about leaving competition to coach. Kisumi, though: Kisumi is the same as he always is, in every universe-- hovering just on the perimeter of some exclusive swimming/friendship club he somehow never got the invite to.   
  
Basketball is all right, is brilliant, but it isn't the reluctant smile he teases out of Haru when he's being especially glib, not Rin's toothy grin or Makoto's sweet, almost-surprised laughter. There's no Asahi to rile up, or Ikuya to lead gently into friendship. Basketball never taught him how Sousuke's voice warms in that particular way he has when he likes you and is too fond to hide it. Kisumi finds all these things on his own and chooses them for himself, and it takes a long time before they choose him back. But Kisumi is nothing if not patient, and above all he has learned forgiveness. So, during one of their oddly frequent LINE conversations (Kisumi is constantly surprised Sousuke replies so often), when Sousuke asks after that cut-off invitation from the cultural festival all those months ago, Kisumi doesn't even have to think before he's smiling at his phone and typing _yes, let's, maybe dinner?_  
  
Dinner itself, a few days later, is a whole different beast. They haven't actually been alone together in years, not since middle school at least. Despite Kisumi taking great pains to choose inoffensive subjects, they can't quite find a topic of conversation that doesn't trail off into silence.  
  
In the end they talk about Rin, because Sousuke always talks about Rin when there isn't anything else to say.  
  
"He's pushing himself too much, even though Haru and I tell him not to," Sousuke says. Haru now, not Nanase; it's different hearing it spoken. The words roll off Sousuke's tongue easily, a well-worn phrase. Kisumi wonders how many people Sousuke has said this same thing to. He doesn't expect to be higher in Sousuke's estimation than other people; only, he'd thought his particular position was a special one and it stings to know that he might be wrong.  
  
"Have you tried invading his place and making him rest?" Kisumi asks. "We-- Makoto and the others did that to Haru in middle school."  
  
Sousuke smiles at something. It's the sort of smile that Kisumi instinctively knows is a Rin-smile. "We live together, remember? I do that anyway."  
  
It's funny how Kisumi has been through so many warm companions since he left Iwatobi, done so many things with so many people and yet a sentence from Sousuke makes all of them not matter any more. He feels like he's 13 again, navigating the uncertain waters of a crush and not knowing what to do until it was too late-- until all he could do was write to Rin and tell him, Sousuke is so lonely without you. Because how else could he get Sousuke to come look for him?  
  
"Oh," is all he says in the end, and maybe Sousuke realises this isn't going so well because he goes back to focusing on his food with single-minded intensity.  
  
They pass a good ten minutes like this before Kisumi has had quite enough.   
  
"Why did you ask me to dinner," Kisumi says, unsubtle because he's tired and only half a question because he isn't sure if he wants to know the answer. Sousuke pauses on a bite of steak to look at him disbelievingly.  
  
"Are you serious?"  
  
"Why would I be asking if I wasn't?" Kisumi pouts a little because he can. Sousuke takes a drink of water, sighs deeply.  
  
"I'm going to kill Rin," he says, more to himself than to Kisumi, who stares. Not that this is an unusual thing for Sousuke to say, because he and Rin give each other bad advice all the time and should really know better after all these years. Kisumi just doesn't know what advice Rin could have to give about _himself._  
  
"Haru would be upset," Kisumi says, twirling his fork in his remaining pasta in lieu of thinking about it. He isn't very hungry any more.  
  
"He'd just complain about the mess." There is an awkward pause while the waiter appears and refills their water glasses. But even when the waiter goes away Sousuke looks at his glass for a long time before he continues. "Anyway, this isn't about Haru."  
  
It isn't about Rin either, Kisumi wants to say, but it really kind of is and Kisumi can't deceive himself. He looks at the table next to them while Sousuke is thinking about whatever he wants to say. The couple is smiling at each other soppily, taking turns to feed each other from their shared dessert plate. On any other day this would have been the height of adorable, but today Kisumi just finds it mildly upsetting. It's irrational, he knows, but he thinks he can be excused.  
  
"Oi." Kisumi startles, turning back to Sousuke. "Are you listening?"  
  
"Yes-- no," admits Kisumi when Sousuke glares at him. "What did you say?"  
  
"I said," Sousuke coughs unnaturally, looking everywhere but at Kisumi, "I said, I'm trying to take you on a date, you idiot."  
  
"The one calling people idiots is the idiot," Kisumi says automatically, before his brain catches up to his mouth. "What?"  
  
Sousuke doesn't elaborate.  
  
"Aren't you and Rin, you know..." Kisumi makes a lewd gesture that he immediately regrets. "You're living together."  
  
"We are not," Sousuke makes the same gesture and Kisumi flushes, "because he's family and you don't do that with family. Also Haru would poison my food."  
  
It's _Haru_ and Rin-- and of course it is, Kisumi doesn't know how he could have missed it. He should really meet them more often; plain text tells him nothing useful. He looks at Sousuke more closely now, at the way his brow is furrowed and he won't meet Kisumi's eyes. He's been talking normally enough but Kisumi gathers, from the tensed shoulders and tightness around his mouth, that Sousuke is not happy with the way the conversation is going.  
  
There are a few ways he could take this. Sousuke could be hoping for Kisumi to shoot down the date thing. He could just be thinking about how this is a lousy way to spend a Saturday night. But he could also be thinking-- Kisumi clamps down on that train of thought before it goes anywhere. Kisumi is well-versed in expectations versus disappointment. He's not about to let it happen now.  
  
"Why are we on a date?"  
  
Sousuke pushes his hand through his hair, making an irritated noise. "I told Rin this was a bad idea." Kisumi is fairly sure Rin was having a fabulous idea, and makes a mental note to buy Rin something nice on his birthday. "I just-- wanted to see if it was something that could happen. I guess. You left so soon after the festival. Didn't have time to talk properly."  
  
"I didn't think anyone would miss me," Kisumi says, and it comes out far more lonely than he'd meant it to be. He wishes he could take it back. "Besides, that was ages ago."   
  
"I missed you." Sousuke is still not looking at Kisumi, but his voice is fond and it settles hotly in Kisumi's chest.  
  
"You just missed my face," he says, because he isn't prepared to drag his feelings out into the open all naked and vulnerable. "I grew up attractive, didn't I?"  
  
Sousuke finally looks at him, and Kisumi thrills at the edge of something else in his eyes. "You've always been attractive, idiot."  
  
Kisumi's heartbeat is loud in his ears, and the fact that they're in public is unimportant noise in the back of his head. "When?"  
  
"Rin told me off in one of his Australia letters," Sousuke says, smiling his Rin-smile again, and Kisumi is jealous despite himself. "Said I was being stupid and I need to watch more movies. But I knew about you. I just didn't figure myself out until the festival." His smile fades. "Didn't really have the time."  
  
That last part is a swimming thing, Kisumi thinks, a thing maybe related to why Sousuke and Haru are still touchy around each other sometimes. He doesn't pry.  
  
"You could have said something," he says instead, drawing circles with his finger on the tablecloth.   
  
"I tried to." Sousuke tilts his head to where Kisumi's phone is on the table. He probably means their LINE conversations, which means either Kisumi is oblivious or Sousuke is useless at flirting. Kisumi decides it's the latter. "Either way, I'm saying it now."   
  
It doesn't feel real. A small part of Kisumi, buried somewhere deep, has been pining after Sousuke since they were children in elementary school. He'd thought it was gone for good, but it's been digging its way out over the last months and now it's hammering at his ribs and he can't get enough air. Sousuke is watching him, patient, the tightness gone from his face. He looks very handsome like this. Kisumi suddenly doesn't want anyone else to see.  
  
"Can we go?" he asks, pushing away from the table with a clatter. Sousuke looks surprised, but he follows without argument.  
  
The taxi ride back to Kisumi's place (he lives alone) is quiet. Halfway through it Kisumi dares to put his hand on Sousuke's and almost takes it away again, but Sousuke catches hold before he can. It isn't comfortable; Sousuke's hand is too warm and Kisumi's palm is sweaty. But neither of them let go. Kisumi's face is so hot he thinks he might actually catch fire.  
  
The rest of the walk up the stairs to Kisumi's apartment is hurried, and they stumble more than once, but after Kisumi lets them in Sousuke pauses in the dark entranceway, his hand still a tight grip on Kisumi's. Kisumi, however, is the one who speaks first.  
  
"I don't want to rush," he says, and he'd opened his mouth thinking it would just be a platitude to put Sousuke at ease-- he's startled to realise he means it. "I mean, I only just stopped thinking you were dating Rin."  
  
A pause. Kisumi wishes he could see Sousuke's expression. But it's dark, with not even moonlight to help him.   
  
"Kisumi," Sousuke says, differently from how he usually says it. Kisumi can feel him moving closer. "I'm really not dating Rin. Or anyone."  
  
"I _know,_ " petulantly, "it's just, I need to get used to--"  
  
Two heartbeats of silence, then Sousuke moves his face back. Kisumi can't breathe. All the nerves on his body are concentrated in his lips.  
  
"Then get used to it," Sousuke tells him, just a little bit rough.   
  
"Okay," Kisumi says, and pulls him in again.


	9. background sousuke/natsuya/nao

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which kazunii and natsuya met in mexico, and natsuya is definitely not dating both nao and sousuke, nope

It's a quick jolt of pain and then a tiny ache, and now Natsuya's earlobe sports a glittering blue sapphire stud. Kazuma puts the piercing gun down and holds up a mirror for him to see. He turns his head a little, considering how this new addition makes him look.

"It's nice, but we should have done it with the needle instead." Kazuma eyes him critically, putting the mirror down when Natsuya nods.

"Nothing but sass since I came back," Natsuya sighs, putting a hand to his heart. "And I'm not a big fan of needles, I keep saying."

"Yeah, yeah, you big pansy. I'd have thought you'd go for something more flashy to put in it, though."

Natsuya eyes him, wounded. "Isn't a sapphire flashy enough?"

"You're more of a ruby kind of guy to me."

Not that it matters, since Natsuya doesn't quite have enough money to afford real gems. He reaches up to touch the piercing, then drops his hand sheepishly when Kazuma glares at him.

"It's the Virgo birthstone, you know? The people I'm dating are both Virgos," Natsuya explains, trying not to laugh at the way Kazuma shudders when he says 'people' instead of 'person'. He's good about it most of the time, but Kazuma still hasn't really gotten used to the idea of polyamory. 

"Lot of Virgos around," says Kazuma, clearly struggling to comment. He tosses the used piercing gun in the trash and picks something up from a tray on the table. "Think my cousin's a Virgo too."

"Oh, really?" Natsuya squirms in his seat. "We're done, right? I promised I'd meet my brother for dinner."

"Yeah, hang on, I just need to get the back on for you." Kazuma leans down and puts a hand on the side of Natsuya's face, gently pushing his head to one side. Natsuya remembers, all at once, the first time he met Kazuma at a club in Mexico. He'd put his hands on Natsuya like this too.

"Stop thinking dirty thoughts," Kazuma says, but it's fond. He clicks the back of the stud into place and lets go. 

"I wasn't," Natsuya protests.

"You haven't changed a bit. You better not add my cousin to the list of Virgos you're sleeping with."

Natsuya, instead of answering, laughs brightly and snatches his bag from the floor. "Gotta go, Ikuya's calling me, say hi to Sousuke for me!"

"Kirishima," says Kazuma, slowly, but Natsuya has already yanked open the door to the apartment and made his escape.


	10. sousuke/natsuya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> who knows what Natsuya's alcohol tolerance is really like

Three beers, two highballs and four tequila shots later (Sousuke has been counting, worriedly), Natsuya is sprawled across the table with his cheeks flushed and hands grabbing for Sousuke's. Sousuke lets him tangle their fingers together because he knows, from experience, that Natsuya will cause a  _ scene  _ if he doesn't. 

"Yamazaki," Natsuya says, drawing out the vowels into a whine. Beside him, Rin is already leaning on Makoto's shoulder, wheezing with laughter. "I'm  _ tired. _ "

Sousuke looks at the ceiling to see if help will come from the heavens, since it obviously isn't coming from any of the people he'd foolishly thought were his friends. Nao pats his shoulder sympathetically.

"Best to just take him home and get it over with," advises Nao. "You're the only one he hasn't done this to yet, anyway."

"The only one?" Sousuke repeats, disbelievingly, but even Kisumi is nodding enthusiastically, and Haru has closed his eyes as if warding off a bad memory. Ikuya is massaging the bridge of his nose. None of this bodes at all well for the rest of Sousuke's night. Rin, despite already calming down, takes one look at Sousuke's face and dissolves into hysterics again. Sousuke looks at Natsuya's hand in his own, the way Natsuya has his head resting on his arm while he gazes at Sousuke with his most soulful eyes.

"Fine," says Sousuke, standing up and dragging Natsuya up with him. For a moment they're just standing with linked hands on opposite sides of the table, staring at each other. Then Sousuke's ears go hot and he slips his hands out of Natsuya's grasp.

"Don't take advantage, Sousuke," Rin says, in between his giggling fits. "Natsuya-san can be persuasive."

Natsuya, having managed to extricate himself from between table and chair, is now attempting to wrap himself around Sousuke like an octopus. Sousuke, again, lets him.

"Matsuoka Rin," says Sousuke, "I am going to post your Samezuka school festival photos online."

"Not the—"

"The second year ones," Sousuke says, with finality, and carries Natsuya off to the train station.

"Was that really necessary," he asks, when they're on the last train heading back to Asakusa and Natsuya is still clinging, but much quieter now. His hair has a bit of wax in it because he wanted to look nice at Ikuya's birthday celebration, and it scratches at Sousuke's neck.

"It's true that you're the only one I haven't gone home drunk with," Natsuya mumbles. "They'd have gotten suspicious if I never bothered."

"You are dreaming if you think Nao-san doesn't already know. And Kisumi knows everything, anyway."

Natsuya smiles into Sousuke's shoulder. "But I discovered I like keeping secrets," he says, reaching to slide his finger into Sousuke's belt loop.

"You're not very good at it, Natsuya-san." The back of Sousuke's neck is burning from the not-at-all subtle glances the other passengers in the compartment are giving them. Sometimes he thinks Natsuya's spent so much time abroad that he's forgotten acceptable boundaries for public affection.

"It's the thought that counts," Natsuya says. He isn't even making sense any more. Sousuke tilts his head to the side, resting it on top of Natsuya's. 

"Just go to sleep. I'll wake you up when we reach our stop."

"Don't take advantage, Yamazaki."

"You want me to," Sousuke says, matter-of-fact, and Natsuya presses closer, laughing quietly. 

"Brat," he murmurs, and they stay wrapped in each other all the way home.


	11. albert/haru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> spontaneous hotel hookup. wow.

There is a knock on his door. Haru, who is only awake to use the toilet, eyes it with suspicion. No one should be looking for him at this time; maybe they've just gotten the wrong room. Isana is snoring surprisingly loudly on the other side of the room, so it's probably not someone looking for him either. Having reached this conclusion, Haru ignores the knock and gets back into bed.

Then, with impeccable timing, the knocking comes again, more insistently this time. Isana rolls over, grumbling unintelligibly. Haru looks at the ceiling, sighs, and gets out of bed again.

Of course, it's Al.

"It's three in the morning," says Haru. Al just looks at him innocently, head cocked to one side. He looks like a gigantic puppy, which is very misleading.

"Let's swim, Haru," Al says, as if three in the morning is a perfectly normal time to make this demand. Maybe Al is jet-lagged. From within the room, Isana's grumbles are getting louder, so Haru steps out and shuts the door behind him without thinking.

Al looks from him to the door and back again, and then Haru realises he's just locked himself out of the hotel room.

"Can't swim now." Haru motions to his legs, which are just in sweats because he doesn't wear legskins under all his clothes any more (he would, but the coach lectured him about keeping them in proper condition, so he's reluctantly given it up). Anyway, he's locked out, which is arguably the more pressing issue.

"Come back to mine, then, " Al says cheerfully, clapping his hand on Haru's shoulder. Haru is suddenly acutely aware that he isn't wearing a shirt, and it's _cold_ in the corridor. "  We can find something else to do."

"What?" Haru asks, but Al has slid his hand down to grasp Haru's arm and is dragging him off somewhere. For a fleeting moment, Haru wishes he'd paid more attention to Rin's nagging about learning English.

"Where are we going?" he asks, but then they stop at a door just a few rooms down from Haru's.

"My room," Al informs him, and Haru at least understands that.

What he doesn't understand is why Al has his hands on Haru's hips the moment they've entered his room. He isn't sure when they started having different conversations, but when Al's palm brushes the front of his sweats, Haru discovers he is very much a fan of the one Al's trying to have.

"Next best thing, since swimming's off the table and you went and got yourself stuck outside." Al's grin is shark-like, his eyes gone dark again, and Haru swallows. Three in the morning makes people crazy, he thinks, and reaches out to touch Al too.

"We're still having a rematch tomorrow," he says, even as Al pulls him closer. Al laughs like he understands, and he cradles the side of Haru's face with his right hand.

"I'm going to kiss you," Al says. Haru has time to parse the word 'kiss', and then Al's tongue is in his mouth and his thigh is between Haru's legs and Haru doesn't have time to think about anything else, all the way until morning.


	12. gen yakuza AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> written for shiritori. chapter 5 of this snapshots series is also set earlier in this universe! but honestly this is so self-indulgent i just wanted nao being scary

_That way,_ Rin thinks, body twisting in the direction of faint shouts and a rising column of smoke. His shirt is torn and bloody where one of Kinjou's men shoved a knife in his side, but he can't stop to nurse his wounds now. The cops will be on them any minute— he has to find Momo before anything else or the boss'll have his head. Why Momo thought it was a good plan to open negotiations with Kinjou of all people, Rin will never know. The idealistic _idiot._

"Rin," someone says from behind him, and he's almost thrown his knife before he recognises Sousuke and curses loudly. 

"Where've you been?" He turns and starts running again, and Sousuke follows. Rin has a lot of other things to say about his right hand man disappearing for two months without so much as a by your leave, but now's not the time for a chat. They're sprinting through a civilian street because it's the fastest route, and everyone's looking at them, especially Rin's blood-spattered white shirt. Later, he's probably going to regret the lack of subtlety. Or Ai will make him regret it. 

"Making alliances," Sousuke replies, sounding breathless. "I see you haven't stopped throwing first and thinking later."

"My aim's a lot better now." 

"You'd still be down a weapon," Sousuke points out reasonably. 

Rin can't quite find a logical comeback to that, so he decides to ignore it. His side hurts too much to think properly. "I ran into some of Kinjou's goons earlier looking for Momo. He's not answering his phone, so I thought the Naribusawa building… but I don't know who started the fire." Having said so, he glances at Sousuke, wondering how much he knows about the situation. 

"Well," Sousuke says, "I think the fire means Kirishima-san probably came through after all. Although this wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

_ "Kirishima?" _ Rin almost shrieks, stumbling from shock. Sousuke grabs his arm and drags him up to support him; the pain in his side doubles.

"Just watch," says Sousuke, flashing a winning smile as he half-carries Rin around the corner to find the Naribusawa building roaring with fire and Serizawa fucking Nao stepping out of a black Honda, waving his men (they're _all_ carrying, how are they so goddamn well armed) back from middle of the street, where a group of men are huddled together. 

"Are you serious," Rin hisses, and he shoves Sousuke off before he can bleed all over him. No one seems to be moving, so he hangs back, eyes flickering over the people on the scene. Momo isn't out in the open where he can see, but the group in the middle are all Kinjou and his lackeys, looking quite the worse for wear.

"I believe there's been a misunderstanding," Serizawa says to them. His tone is mild as milk, but Rin doesn't trust it a bit. He knows who  _ really _ runs the Kirishima group, and it's not their charismatic boss or his brooding younger brother.

There's a movement from inside one of the cars barricading the area, and Rin looks over to see— 

"Momo!" he whispers, only remembering to keep his voice down because Sousuke is gripping his arm again. Momo waves from the backseat, winking extravagantly. Rin wishes he knew what the hell was going on. He looks back at the building and accidentally catches Kinjou's eye. The man looks incensed, turning back to glare at Serizawa.

"Are you really going to start something over the extra Mikoshiba?" Kinjou sneers, tilting his chin up. Serizawa crosses his arms and leans against his car, tilting his chin right back. 

"There's nothing to start, Kinjou-kun," he says. Rin swallows at the audacity. Serizawa is not officially in an executive position in his group, but Kinjou  _ is.  _ Serizawa denying him the honorific due his rank is like spitting at his feet. Now Kinjou's underlings look like  _ they _ want to start something, but Serizawa's men only tighten their hold on their guns and the lackeys subside. "I'm sure the fire was just a gas leak somewhere. Momotarou-kun wasn't even anywhere near it, you see?" He gestures to his car. Momo gets out on the side closer to Rin, waves again.

"I can  _ see _ that you're trying to bluff me into a retreat, and it won't work," says Kinjou, taking a step forward. Rin has to admire his guts, if nothing else; he's surrounded by guns but he doesn't seem scared at all. It's probably because he's new in the area and doesn't know Serizawa like the rest of them. By this time, Momo has slunk over to where Rin and Sousuke are standing. Kinjou hasn't missed this, and he snarls like an animal. "You wouldn't  _ dare _ touch me."

Serizawa doesn't answer him immediately, instead glancing over and motioning that they should leave. Sousuke bows his head. Rin takes his cue and bows too, and they turn to get the hell out of there. They'll owe the Kirishima group now, but he's pretty sure the boss will find this an excellent outcome regardless. Before he can think better of it, Rin darts a look back to see Serizawa smiling like he's received the most delightful present. 

"I assure you, Kinjou-kun," he hears Serizawa say as they round the corner again, followed by the sound of a dozen safeties being clicked off, "I never bluff."

When they get back to the main house, Rin is going to have a million questions about how Sousuke secured  _ this  _ kind of alliance in only two damn months, but that's going to be a long conversation that he can't be bothered to think about. Right now, he just leans his weight on the two others and lets them haul him off to find medical attention. He's probably lost more blood than he thought— his vision is darkening at the edges.

"Momo," he says, before he can pass out properly.

"Yes, senpai?"

"I'm going to let Ai kill you."


End file.
